


Then Comes a Little Baby Sitting in the Carriage

by sparxwrites



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Agender Character, Crack, Hatchlings, Other, Parenthood, Xenomorphs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 14:11:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3137291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparxwrites/pseuds/sparxwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hello,” said an unfamiliar voice, and Strife blinked at the sight of a person he knew by reputation but not face – Lying. There was no mistaking the long, blonde ponytail, the oddly mismatched eyes, and the distinctive witch’s hat. “I’m <i>terribly</i> sorry to be bothering you so late at night-” Their tone of voice made Strife think they were probably anything but sorry. “-but a well is really no place to raise a child.”</p><p>“…I beg your pardon?” asked Strife faintly, confused and surprised enough that Lying shouldered past him easily, despite Strife’s rather more broad-shouldered build. “What do you mean, <i>a well</i>- is that an egg?!”</p><p>(In which Lying has an egg, Strife is the father, and the baby is probably a xenomorph.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Then Comes a Little Baby Sitting in the Carriage

**Author's Note:**

> someone on skype mentioned a character looking like lying and strife’s child. i mentioned the egg. things went very rapidly downhill from there, and suddenly there were wedding dresses and passive-aggressive domesticity, and i was writing crackfic. wh oops. not quite what i meant when i put “strife/lying” on my to-write list, but hey ho. at least this one doesn’t have tentacles in it??
> 
>  **warnings** for eggs, dna-stealing, mentions of cannibalism in the context of a threat, uh…??

A knock on the doors of Strife Towers late on a Wednesday night was somewhat unexpected. A knock on the doors of Strife Towers at _any_ time was somewhat unexpected, given visitors were few and far between, but nights meant the neighbourhood witches were in bed, and Parvis was probably doing… whatever it was Parvis did at night. Strife wasn’t much inclined to think about it too hard.

Wondering who’d be awake, or around, to call at such an odd time – perhaps Kirin? But Strife hadn’t heard anything from him after their terrifying little sojourn into the Twilight Forest – Strife set his tools and the chunk of motor down on the blueprints spread across his crafting table, and trotted out of his workroom and down the stairs. “Coming!” he called once he hit the entrance hall, crossing it quickly to hit the button that opened the doors. “Hello? Strife Solutions, what do you want?”

“Hello,” said an unfamiliar voice, and Strife blinked at the sight of a person he knew by reputation but not face – Lying. There was no mistaking the long, blonde ponytail, the oddly mismatched eyes, and the distinctive witch’s hat. “I’m _terribly_ sorry to be bothering you so late at night-” Their tone of voice made Strife think they were probably anything but sorry. “-but a well is really no place to raise a child.”

“…I beg your pardon?” asked Strife faintly, confused and surprised enough that Lying shouldered past him easily, despite Strife’s rather more broad-shouldered build. “What do you mean, _a well_ \- is that an egg?!”

Tutting at how well-lit the entrance hall was, Lying cast Strife a withering look over their shoulder. “Yes, it’s an egg,” they said, as if Strife was stupid to be unsure about what, exactly, the scarf-wrapped bundle nearly as big as their torso that they were cradling in their arms was – as if ordinary people wandered around fondly petting eggs and barging their way inside strangers’ homes.

For a long second, all Strife could do was stare at the strange witch cradling an egg and dripping bloodied, stagnant water onto his nice marble floors.

When he finally managed to move, it was to block Lying from moving further into the building in the futile hope they would turn around and leave through the still-open doors. “Why, exactly, are you here?” he asked, desperately trying to find some scrap of professionalism through his overwhelming confusion. “I mean, I, uh, I absolutely understand the importance of raising a child in a safe and warm and… non-well-like environment, but- I’m not sure my tower-“

Lying cut him off, grinning a grin that Strife was sure was anatomically improbable at the very least and baring neat rows of white, pointed teeth. “Oh, didn’t I mention?” they said, patting the top of the egg gently. “You’re the father.”

The noise Strife made in response to that sounded something like a sad, strangled, dying animal.

“Wha-” he managed, when his legs no longer felt like they were about to buckle beneath him, face blanched grey-white with shock. “Ah, um, no, I’m very- very sure you’re wrong about that. I feel like that’s something- like that’s, ah, _definitely_ something I would have remembered.” The idea that it _wasn’t_ something he remembered was rather more alarming than the idea that Lying was just toying with him.

Making a dismissive noise, Lying waved a hand and looked faintly disgusted at the mere implication. Strife wasn’t entirely sure whether to be offended or relieved. “Oh, no,” they said, “eurgh. Not like _that_. No, I just needed some spare DNA, considering Kirin was so _awfully_ rude about it when I tried to get some of his, and, well. You should probably be a little more careful with how you dispose of all the waste from that DNA recombiner of yours, really.”

Strife groaned, quietly, dragging a hand over his face. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. I suppose- okay, you can stay. Just- just until the egg hatches, and then we’ll have to think about alternate accommodation, because really, the tower’s no place for a child, there’s machinery and tools and uncarpeted floors and sharp corners and-”

“Excellent,” said Lying, cheerfully talking over the top of him and baring teeth in what was _probably_ supposed to be a smile – as if they’d ever had any intention of leaving if Strife had said they weren’t welcome. “That’s excellent. Thank you _so_ much.”

They set the egg down on one of the decorative tables that were scattered around the entrance hall, cradling it carefully to prevent it from rolling off, and began to unwrap it from its swaddling, studiously ignoring the way Strife was staring at them as they did so.

“Is that- blood, in your ponytail?” asked Strife after a long moment’s silence. A little hesitantly, he peered at the crimson-dipped ends of the witch’s hair, and sighing as it dripped tiny droplets onto his beautifully clean floor.  
“Yes?” said Lying, more intent on carefully unwrapping several scarves from around the huge egg than answering questions.

Strife made an anxious sort of noise, hovering. “Do you- I don’t know, would you like to use the shower or something?” he asked, more than a little concerned, only to wince when Lying turned to glare at him.

“Why on _earth_ would I want to do that?” they asked, impatiently, finally shedding the last of the scarves and leaving them in a little heap on the floor, slowly soaking up the greenish-red water dripping off of them. “No, what I _want_ is a furnace. Or a fire. Anything hot. The egg’s probably freezing, poor thing.” They ran a hand over the uneven outside of it with a concerned noise.

“Um, are you planning to put our ch- I mean, _the egg_ actually _in_ the furnace?” asked Strife, more than a little anxiously, shifting from foot to foot and trying not to look at the puddle slowly growing around Lying.

Exasperated, Lying shifted the egg so they could hold it under one arm, and grabbed the neck of Strife’s waistcoat, dragging him close until their noses were practically touching. “I _walked_ all the way here, because it’s too cold a mile up for me to fly with the egg. I am freezing. The egg is undoubtedly equally cold. _Show me where the nearest fire is._ ”

Hands held up in surrender, Strife nodded. “Okay!” he managed, clearing his throat when he realised his voice had shot up several octaves. “Okay, okay, I’ll- okay, just let me close the doors, or we’ll have things wandering in-” He waited for Lying to release him before hurrying over to the door mechanism, hitting the button and watching the huge doors grind shut.

He walked back over to Lying, intending to lead the way to their workroom, which was fully equipped with a furnace, before pausing. “Can I-” he started, before stopping, rephrasing the question so he felt a little less ridiculous for asking it. He could feel his face heat up anyway, though, traitorously colouring. “Could I maybe- hold the egg?”

The request seemed to surprise Lying, who blinked, before holding out the egg – a little reluctantly, judging by the look on their face.

“If you drop it, I will remove all your limbs for roasting, and feast on your warm entrails while they cook,” said Lying sweetly, handing the egg over to Strife. “Which I suspect would be _far_ less enjoyable for you than it would be for me. So don’t drop it.”

Strife swallowed hard, clutching the egg to his chest as carefully as he could with one hand underneath it and one arm wrapped around the middle. It was unwieldy, but surprisingly warm, and there was something that felt distinctly like a _heartbeat_. As if the egg was pulsing beneath his fingers. “Got it,” he said, in a slightly strangled tone of voice. “No dropping the egg.”

Their progress up the stairs to Strife’s workroom was a little slow, mostly due to Strife’s fear of slipping or stumbling, Lying’s rather graphic threat still at the forefront of his mind. He took each step carefully, worried about tripping, and carefully ignored Lying’s impatient tutting and sighing from behind him.

They reached the work room eventually, though, blueprints and tools and motor parts still scattered across the table from Strife’s work before Lying had turned up at the door. There was an unlit furnace in the corner, and Strife made his way over to it before ever so carefully opening the front and depositing the egg inside. “Like this?” he checked with Lying, glancing over his shoulder. “You want it- _in_ the furnace?”

“Yes, yes,” said Lying impatiently, waving a dismissive hand at Strife. “Hurry up, before the poor thing freezes to death.” They’d put a lot of time and effort into that egg, and a lot of energy hauling it all the way here from the well, and they weren’t going to let all of that go to waste just because Strife was reluctant to put it in a fire.

A click of a button, and power from his mains system began feeding the machine, setting it ablaze with tongues of red-yellow fire that curled lovingly around the egg’s black, gleaming shell.

“What now?” asked Strife, hovering by the furnace – unlike Lying who, the minute the egg was safely deposited, had looked for somewhere to sit and had settled on Strife’s chair on the basis of _finders keepers_. “What happens now?”

“We wait,” said Lying, shrugging a little carelessly and running fingers through their damp hair to untangle it, heedless of the bloodied water they were scattering all over Strife’s blueprints. “It’s probably going to hatch in a few hours. I waited until it was close before coming here. After that…”

They grinned widely again, eyes glittering with the reflected flames from the front of the furnace. “After that, our darling little child will be hungry. Their instincts will kick in, and they’ll begin to hunt. Baby’s first kill.” They sighed a little dreamily.

Strife hummed anxiously, still hovering. “That doesn’t sound very safe,” he said doubtfully. “A newborn child, hunting? What if they get hurt, what if- it’s night time, there’s mobs all around, they might get eaten, or a creeper might- _surely_ it’d be better to wait for daytime, I mean…”

He paused, brain catching up with all of what Lying had said. “ _Baby’s first kill_?” he said, a tentative note of concern working its way into his voice. “Why is our child _killing_ things? That really doesn’t sound safe at all, I- I think we might need to have a conversation about parenting techniques, because obviously there’s some disparity here-”

Lying merely smiled sweetly again, cutting across Strife’s rambling effortlessly. “Oh, no,” they said, cheerfully. “It’s not safe at all – for _us_. I hope you’re good at hide-and-seek, Strife, or I’m afraid our shared parenthood will be rather… short.”

They sighed dramatically, grin only widening at the faintly horrified expression slowly spreading over Strife’s face. “Such a shame. I was _so_ looking forward to our beautiful wedding… I’d have looked marvellous in a dress.”


End file.
